The Cursed Russian Doll
by Deamiel
Summary: Matthew William's was a quiet child. He never complained or made a fuss. It was all normal, well borderline anyway, but this doll was not normal. Matthew noticed. This is his story of having a bi-polar psychotic doll protecting him from the Bozh'ya volya. Life will never be the same again. RusCan (Russia is a doll and Matthew is human)
1. Chapter 1

FULL SUMMARY: Matthew William's was a quiet child. He never complained or made a fuss. Even his fathers were worried to the point they though he was depressed, that they had failed him. No one understood him. No one ever will, so he kept quiet. Quiet as a ghost. Quiet to the point of non existence. Quiet until he questioned his own sanity.

That was until he received a gift from his parents. Matthew was history fanatic so it was obvious they would present him with a Russian doll dressed in a Soviet Uniform. On the other hand, to a any sane person, it was ultimately a strange gift. Even his, obnoxious and oblivious, brother was shaken up by the doll.

It was all normal, well borderline anyway, but this doll was not normal. Matthew noticed. This is his story of having a bi-polar psychotic doll protecting him from the Bozh'ya volya. Life will never be the same again.

Story:

"Hey, Mattie bro!" Alfred cried out.

Opening the front door to the adequate dull suburban home. Eyeing the living room impatiently, the teenager dropped his school bag in the middle of the hallway, with a loud thud he leapt up the stairs. Old laminated wood creaked under the pressure as the teen sprinted wildly. There were three rooms altogether upstairs, Alfred stopped mid flight and stared at the desolate hallway.

The echo of creaking wood still ringing in his ears. Soft padded feet continued up the steps into the first room. It was his parent's room, the house was colonial, so the walls were painted a crisp creme, a poster bed was decorated in Victorian outdated swirls, the air was still of any movement and all Alfred could do was freeze awkwardly while darting his eyes around the room for movement. At these times Alfred wished he did not live in such an old house, it moaned queerly at midnight when no a single soul was conscious, he wanted desperately to move out of the ancient building.

But alas he could not, seeing the unbreakable contact between his father, Arthur and the timeworn dwelling. Still, Alfred swore by the Bible that it was haunted. Arthur had once told a story of how his grandfather had drawn a circle, on the wooden floor, in the living room with chalk then had muttered a spell to call out any ethereal beings to view. That was apparently when unscrupulous events started to take place. All those tales Arthur had told Alfred now started to swarm his mind. Plaguing his thoughts with fear induced deductions.

"Mattie, man this ain't cool." Alfred swallowed roughly, his tongue thick, his breathing ragged and deep. Approaching the other door, linking his parent's room to his brother's room he latched onto the cool handle and turned it painstakingly slowly. The lock on the door clicked, but Alfred had yet to open it. A whisper sliced the thick silence.

"Al?" Alfred spun on heels and yelled shrilly. His brother stood like an otherworldly being. He was a few centimeters shorter than Alfred himself, but this shortfall was made up in his serene personality while Alfred was skittish, with a pale lithe figure, opposite to Alfred who was more muscular and tan, Matthew's lips compressed into an unimpressed line, surreal iridescent midnight blue orbs were studying his brother with ruthless scrutiny.

"Mattie, bro you freaked me out, man. How did you do that!?" Alfred allowed his lips to stretch to the limit with an ecstatic grin. Matthew, being the more calm one between the two, glided gracefully across the room, moving effortlessly to his brother, with a delicate twitch of his lips he nodded a greeting. Loosely shoulder length curled, hair was pinned up in a messy high pony, some of the golden blonde hair, with brandy balayage highlights, had escaped framing his face in a strangely attractive way.

"How are you so silent?" Matthew lifted his shoulders in a lazy shrug and turned to leave.

"Woah wait, bro!" Alfred grabbed roughly onto Matthew's slimmer figure, his ahoge bouncing excitedly on his head, and proceeded to drag the reluctant boy to the front door.

"Gil is standing outside with the rest of the gang, he wants to talk, you know it's your birthday and all." Alfred, oblivious to the stiffening of Matthew's muscles, continues down the stairs and dragged the limp boy to the front door. Without consulting he propped up his brother onto his two shaking feet.

"Gil, my main man, I brought Mattie down, where is Ludwig? I need his math notes!" Alfred promptly left his brother with a brash Gilbert. The taller boy leant against the door with a cocky smile, a row of pearly whites showing to glint in the light, while his vivid crimson eyes watched Matthew's more docile frame look around in confusion.

"Hey there little birdie." The boy almost cooed, to Matthew's irritation. Matthew actually liked Gilbert no matter how many times the man handled him like fragile glass. It annoyed him to the limit that he was being treated like butterfly, meant be conserved and protected for her beauty. Matthew was strong.

"Salut, Gilbert." Matthew smiled politely. Gilbert looked around nervously and pulled back from leaning against the door frame, switching his weight from his toes to his heels repeatedly.

"I was wondering, you know, what you want for your B-day..." He voice lowered in volume as he continued to speak, "Cause you know what kind of awesome friend would I be if I didn't get you a gift." Matthew carried on studying Gilbert's unusual actions. Taking pity the boy shook his head.

"You don't have to do anything. Father and Papa have already planned something special." Matthew wanted to add 'you didn't get anything for my brothers birthday, why me?' but he conserved his thoughts. Gilbert frantically disagreed, his voice jumping up a notch.

"No way, you have done so much for me...and I owe you." Matthew, albeit reluctantly, and nodded. When Gilbert was younger he was teased periodically. Many boys and girls did not understand the concept of albino's and were terrified of Gilbert. But after Matthew had transferred into the class they became quick friends. But one day it got worse and one bully had gotten physical with Matthew for associating with Gilbert. Running to the scene the albino had not held back and proceeded to punch the bully violently. After much struggle, Ludwig managed to pry his brother off the bully. That was when Alfred and Gilbert met.

They just clicked and it makes sense, seeing their personality meant they could agree on many things. But then Gilbert started to mingle with Alfred and his friends, Matthew was left behind like always. Still the boy felt indebt to Matthew, as if Matthew was the gateway to his happiness.

"I guess you could get me a history book, wait," Matthew recalled something, retreating into the house Matthew emerged again with a pen and paper.

"Recently I took interest in the Soviet Union, there is a book I saw in the bookstore down the street," Gilbert's face turned sour, "It isn't haunted." Writing wrote quickly with a flick of his wrist.

"That's what I want." Matthew pushed the folded piece of paper into Gilbert's keen hands. The albino grinned with anticipation.

"Ja, I won't let you down birdie."


	2. Chapter 2

Matthew stood curiously in front of a tall mirror. His parents had forced him into more formal attire for the occasion. All because they were planning to capture every moment on their camera, which strangely Matthew had no complaints against, he rarely had his photo taken as his hate rooted from his body structure.

His petite size meant he was easy to pick on, not that he would let the bully go without letting them witness his sharp tongue, he felt more like a clothes hanger than a human. He frowned at his double, who copied his actions effortlessly, in a sterile white shirt lined in red, charcoal black vest and stormy grey trousers. His hair mimicked the colours of the sunset, hanging like soft wavy curtains.

"Mon petite Matthieu!" His papa entered with a joyful smile, border lining flirtation, without any reservation he latched himself onto Matthew's sturdy frame.

"Oui, Papa?" Matthew questioned emotionlessly, concentrating on not allowing his papa's immaturity distract him from smoothing out the fabric of his vest.

" You look zo beautiful, ai can't keep mon 'ands of you, mon son!" Matthew dodged his papa's eager hands and gave him a pointed look, warning of the consequences of his actions. His papa, fueled more by Matthew's rejection, smiled and helped check if his clothing was in order. He stilled and looked into Matthew's eyes with pride.

" You 'ave grown mon son, eet feels lik on-lee yestairdai zat ai was 'uldeng yur 'and and teachéng you to walk. You makng papa cry, why do you 'ave to grow up!?" The man wailed, his voice breaking in the middle of his melodramatic speech. Pulling Matthew into an inescapable hug. Pulling away just as quick, the tears in the corner of his eyes disappearing just as fast as they had appeared.

"Smile mairé mon petite Matthieu, eet eez yur 18th birthdai!" He finished with a gentle smile, a dangerous clang from a kitchen made his papa wipe his head to the exit in frustration.

" Ai tuld 'im not to go een ze kitchen, sairry Matthieu but papa needs to savé ze kitchen from yur fathair befaire 'é burns la 'ousé down." Matthew  
nodded and smiled slightly before replying carefully.

"You might want to hurry..." His papa groaned and lunged for the door and muttered curses. After a few moments came another bang and clash.

"You bloody twat!" His father swore. Matthew returned to the mirror and stared at himself, was he probably the most normal and sane on of the family, something he was happy about.

)=)-x-(=(

"Blow out the candles, bro!" Alfred jumped next to Matthew leaning in closer than ever, only inched away from getting his face cover in cake. His father, being the lovely man he was, grabbed onto Alfred's collar, having been forced into a dress shirt, and growled.

"Slow down brat. We need to wait for fancy-pants to get the camera ready. That did not help Alfred's situation who proceeded to pull Francis away from the camera forcefully.

"Come on! I wanna have some cake!" Alfred whined. Pulling at his papa's sleeve adamantly, Matthew watched the scene and hoped that his father would not join in. Unfortunately, his father decided to just that and the trio spent the next ten minutes battling out what to do. This argument consisted of the father, Arthur, scolding Alfred, who was more interested in forced Francis, papa, to take the photo already so he can get out his formal attire.

No one seemed to notice the bell ring and Matthew quietly stood from his seat, in front of his black forest cake Ludwig had advised him to try, and opened the front door to nod a greeting to the newcomer.

"I got the book!" Gilbert grinned and pulled out the book from behind his back, it was wrapped up messily in a red paper and a white ribbon.

"Merci." Matthew whispered, sincerely, and moved out the way with a small smile playing at his lips to allow Gilbert in.

"Alred is just inside with papa and father." Gilbert nodded and exclaimed.

"Then the awesome me will join them!" Gilbert ran into the house, then froze and turned quickly.

"Oh ja, my unawesome brother and Feli will be here in a few minutes, Luddy decided to first visit Feli in case he had forgotten." Gilbert turned and entered the room and shouted.

"Woah bro, what the hell are you wearing, your awesomeness just went down." Alfred left his parents to brawl it out and smack Gilbert on the head.

"Never speak of this to anyone." Alfred then laughed and pulled Gilbert into a painful crushing hug.

)=)-x-(=(

"There! Here you go Mattie." Matthew looked down to his lap to find a hockey stick tied with a red ribbon, on the handle, there was a signature of the current leading hockey player. Matthew looked up and smiled more brightly than usual.

"Merci Alfred." And he placed the hockey stick to the side. All of Alfred's friends and had gifted him something unique. A painting set from Feliciano, a sketch book from Ludwig who probably brought it to go with Feliciano's gift, Kiku gave him a memory game, Elizabeta and Roderich gave him a recipe book seeing he loved to cook and Wang gave him a stationary set with cute characters decorating it.

His friends were Heracles who yawned and handed him a pillow with a motivational quote printed on it and Vasilica handing him a bracelet with runes engraved into the metal telling him it will protect him from bad luck, something his father nodded with a smile at as if approvingly.

"Lastly our turn." His father voiced and disappeared into the storeroom while his papa approached him.

" Eet took us a whilé to find zumtheng but we 'ope you lik eet." Matthew nodded patiently and frowned when his papa placed his hand over his eyes. He let out a shaky breath not liking the darkness. He could hear his father grunt and enter the room with louder foot steps, he was probably carrying something heavy. Some of Alfred's friends gasped loudly, Gilbert mutter a chant of 'Oh mein gott' and his friend Vasilica squealed in excitement.

"Okay, ready." His father spoke with a strained voice. Being introduced to the light of the room, Matthew blinked and looked around to find his dad. On the living room table everyone was huddled around when passing gifts was a glass cabinet, inside was a hand carved wooden doll sitting still with a charismatic gentle smile formed on his lips, soft unblemished creamy white skin seeming almost unworldly, lively byzantium orbs holding a childish twinkle and pale ashen grey hair was slightly curled and neatly combed to his left.

"Who is he?" Matthew asked, his voice not being able to hold itself in the air being in awe of the unexpected present.

"It says here that he is a replica of a Russian Colonel general, so quite high up in the ranks." Matthew turned back to the doll and furrowed his eyebrows if the man was so high up in the ranks why did he only bore one medal. It was pinned onto his tan heavy winter coat, leaving nothing to see underneath. His hands were placed on his lap over a rusted metal item, which Matthew could not fully make out what it was.

"Lets get all your gifts into your room, lad." His father groaned and took a deep breath and proceeded to carry the cabinet up the stairs. Collecting all the other items he could carry Matthew first went to the kitchen.

"How much was it?" Matthew asked making his papa spin around in shock.

" Oh eet eez you Matthieu, you scaiaiyairéd papa! And non ai weehl not tell you ze pricé seeéng as you weehl try to mak eet up zumhow, just bé 'appy okai?" His papa voiced his concern shrouded with his deep french accent.

)=)-x-(=(

Getting everything to his room his father left muttering to himself how a nice cup of tea would make his day. He jumped to the chance unwrap the book brought by Gilbert. But his mind kept on drifting to the glass cabinet housing the Russian figure.

 _I did it. I've escaped. How long before they notice, how long before their hands reach me and I have to dragged back to that vault. Years have passed like dandelions in the breeze, carelessly leaving behind shattered dreams. I wish Katya was here, even Natalya would have made good company. How I miss those with similar blood._

 _Where am I? Why am I here? There is a boy...he is young and beautiful. What he wears is simply strange, his tongue speaks English. Maybe I am in England, so why have they not burnt me yet?_

"Matthew, come down!" His father yelled grumpily after ten minutes. He took one last look at the doll and turned away with a shiver climbing his spine.

 _He left. He is very pretty, golden curly hair with one strand curling away in playful loops, delicate slim fingers which he used to turn the pages, serene azure eyes stared at me calculating the impossible. He will not know, silly child._

 _Let us see what he was reading._

The glass cabinet swung open slowly and the figure jumped down lightly, his tough leather boot soundlessly making their journey across the carpet. His hands swinging playfully side to side with on hand clasped onto a metal faucet pipe.

Leaning down he laid on the carpet, rubbing the soft material against his face in pure bliss.

 _His carpet was probably woven by angels and their gentle hands, like Katya's hands._

Still laying on his belly the doll proceeded to flick through the book but froze at one phrase.

 _'The Soviet Union collapsed in December 26, 1991' this is not possible. My mother can not fall like this. This book lies!_

Tries dripped down the dolls round cheeks onto the book, but the doll did not move to wipe them, he simply stilled in shock.

"Can I see the doll now!" The doll whipped his head to the door and grabbed his pipe and clambered back into his place.

 _Mother Russia did not die...I will not believe a lie._

"Sure," Matthew answered to Vasilica's request, the boy was very excited when he saw the doll and started to lecture Matthew on an old tale his grandfather had told him about a dead soldier who was resurrected.

He opened the door and paused when his eyes fell on the open cabinet with the doll's head tilted forward to hide his features. Matthew made his way to the doll to notice on the way his book had moved forward a few pages and was stained with tears.

"Matthew?" He turned and remember Vasilica was with him and quickly thought of an excuse.

"I opened it to see the doll but father called me and I forgot to close it." Matthew spoke firmly, Vasilica pouted.

"And I thought we were onto something."

 _Mother Russia will not fall like this..._

 _ **Please comment and tell me what you like**_


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